Parker Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  The people standing around clapped politely and I exhaled loudly. My shoulder still hurt, but it already felt so much better. The sound of sirens got louder.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate that.”

  I could tell by the time the paramedics arrived that I was okay and a trip to the hospital—though my insurance would cover it—would not be necessary. I had to argue with them about it a little bit, and a few of the bystanders urged me to go “just to be on the safe side” but what I really wanted was to check out how damaged the bike was.

  The paramedics finally let me go, after I told them I lived less than a block away and I would go to the ER or call my primary-care doctor if I started to feel worse. I had to talk with a police officer before I could leave, too, give him a description of the vehicle and tell him what exactly had happened.

  “They might not have seen you,” the officer said. “It is staggering the amount of fools who are out there driving cars way bigger than anything they have any business driving. Still no excuse not to stop, though. We’ll try to track down who did it, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I understand.” I knew this little accident wouldn’t be high on the list of priorities; a trip to the ER hadn’t even been necessary, and they had much more pressing issues to dedicate their time and resources to. I didn’t say it to the cop, but the more I thought about it, the less it seemed like an accident. The car had definitely driven right into me.

  ***

  I wasn’t going to call Stella and tell her about it, but when she texted me a few hours later to say she wished she was still there with me, I told her I did too, and that I’d had a rather unfortunate incident with a car right after she left. She called immediately.

  “What happened?” she exclaimed.

  “There was definitely a cyclist-versus-car incident. I didn’t totally lose, exactly, but I can’t say that I came out on top. A technical knockout.”

  “I don’t even know what you’re saying,” Stella said. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so. I dislocated my shoulder but luckily there was a nurse there who was able to help pop it back into place. It’s still kind of sore, but it definitely could’ve been worse.”

  “And the person didn’t even stop?”

  “No. I gave a statement to the police, though, and they talked with some of the bystanders.”

  “I’ll come over.”

  “Only if you want to. I’m actually not doing that badly. I’m probably just going to take it easy for the rest of the day.”

  “I’ll be by in a little bit. There’s something I need to do first.”

  She hung up before I could ask her what that something was. I tossed the phone down onto the coffee table and winced; even though I had tossed it with my other arm, the movement sent a burst of pain exploding through my injured shoulder. I staggered up and went into the kitchen to see if I had a bag of frozen vegetables I could use to ice it.

  Chapter 24

  Stella

  I was shaking when I got off the phone with Cole. He’d been hit by a car?

  My mother had been surprisingly nice to me when I got back home, and though I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, it suddenly seemed obvious what was going on: she had something to do with this. The whole thing—the text messages, Cole getting hit by a car...

  I stormed through the house until I found her in the sitting room, looking at a magazine.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said. “I know that you had something to do with this.”

  “Do with what?” My mother set her magazine down. “Stella, what on earth are you talking about?”

  “I just got off the phone with Cole and he told me someone hit him with their car!”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Am I to surmise that you are accusing me of being responsible for this?”

  “It all makes perfect sense to me.”

  “It might make perfect sense in your mind, but I certainly had nothing to do with that. How can you say that, Stella? You think that I would try to run someone over? And what are you doing still talking with Cole, anyway?”

  “You can’t tell me who I can and cannot hang out with!” I screamed.

  My mother flinched. “I certainly don’t see why you feel the need to raise your voice like that. You’re the one coming in here accusing me of doing something I would never do.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “What about these, then? You don’t know anything about this?” I thrust the phone into her face. Her eyes flicked downward, reading a few of the messages.

  “You think this is me?” she said, blinking at the screen. I yanked the phone back.

  “Who else would it be? Who else hates the fact that I ride bikes? And that I hang out with Cole?”

  “Well, of course I hate that fact! To both of those things. Bikes are dangerous. Especially the way you ride them. Why would you think for a second that I’d be okay with you doing something that is so dangerous? Why can’t you do something safer? Like tennis?”

  “Because tennis is stupid!”

  “That’s your opinion. I think tennis is lovely. It’s an excellent workout, and it’s—”

  “I’m not here to debate the merits of tennis with you.”

  “And Cole—why would I want you hanging out with someone whom we had previously employed to protect you? We didn’t hire him to be your friend. He was an employee. Not someone that you should be fraternizing with. There’s plenty of more suitable people if you’re looking to go on a—”

  “I love him.”

  I said it without even realizing that I was going to say it, but now that the words were out there, it was true. I loved him because he was so much fun to be around, but also because I knew he saw me for who I really was. Not who he thought I should be, or who he wanted me to be, but just myself, as I was. In a lot of ways, I felt he saw me like no one else had ever really seen me before.

  Several emotions seemed to cross my mother’s face all at once: anger, disbelief, incredulousness. Then back to anger, but it actually seemed more like a very controlled rage.

  “Excuse me?”

  Her voice was clipped, measured, the sort of tone she reserved for a waitress or a car valet who had done something she didn’t approve of. Behind that calm façade, though, I could tell she was seething, almost daring me to utter those words again.

  I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a little part of me that wanted to cower. She was my mother, after all, someone who had always loomed large in my life. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore, either. I straightened, looked her right in the eye.

  “I love him. I know that’s not what you want to hear. And I’m sorry for that. But we aren’t living in some country where people have arranged marriages.”

  “Will you stop being so dramatic? No one here is trying to marry you off. All we want for you, Stella, is to see you happy. And for most young women your age, that usually includes having a suitable man in your life.” My mother sighed. “I’m not saying that I expect you to become some sort of housewife or something. I’m not saying that at all. But, especially now that you’re not doing that bike thing anymore, don’t you want to dedicate time to establishing this part of your life? You neglected it for so long.”

  “Maybe that’s because I wanted to. Because I don’t care about that sort of thing.”

  “But you do now? Now that you think you’re in love?”

  How was I supposed to explain to her that I had never felt this way about anyone else before? That the feeling had just sort of snuck up on me; that when I first met Cole I didn’t even like him? I’d been as determined to drive him away as I had with all the other guys who had come before him.

  “I didn’t go out looking for it,” I said. “And you’re the ones who hired him in the first place. I never would’ve met him if it hadn’t been for you guys,
so maybe I should be thanking you.”

  “Stella, I forbid you to continue any sort of relationship with someone whom we hired as help. That is completely unacceptable.”

  “Why? Because he has a job? Because he doesn’t have servants of his own? Because you think that he’s somehow below us?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “You don’t have to say it—I know that’s exactly how you feel. Maybe it’s not PC to admit it out loud, but you and Lillian, and maybe even Lauren, are oh-so aware of your social standing and who you choose to spend your time with. You’d much rather spend time with someone from the country club, even if you thought they were an asshole, than someone you might genuinely like, if they didn’t travel in the same social circle.”

  “It must be nice to have such a clear, unadulterated view of the world,” my mother said. “Of course, you’re terribly naïve, for which I suppose your father and I are partially to blame. Tell me, Stella—have you ever gone without? Have you ever had a desire that went unfulfilled? Do you have any idea what it’s like to actually provide something for yourself? You don’t even have to bother to answer that, because I know the answer. You have been spoiled your entire life, and you don’t even realize it. Do you think my childhood was anything like yours? Do you think your father’s was? We didn’t get everything handed to us. We weren’t so completely and utterly provided for, the way you have been. You have some funny notions about the way the world works. What you should really be doing is thanking your father and me for this privileged lifestyle you’ve been leading. Do you think this is how the rest of the world lives? Do you know how many people out there would trade places with you in an instant?”

  Her words stung. I hated to even admit it, and I tried my hardest to keep my face completely impassive, but her words were cutting, in part because I knew they were true.

  I wasn’t going to let her know that, though. I set my jaw and stared right at her. “Fine,” I said. “Go out and find yourself a new daughter, someone who will be the perfect little socialite that you’ve always wanted. Because that person sure as hell isn’t me!”

  She started to say something but I turned and left before she could finish her sentence. I didn’t want to hear anything else she had to say.

  I went back to my room and crammed a bunch of stuff into one of my old messenger bags. I tried to be stealthy as I went to get my commuter bike from the basketball court, hoping that I wouldn’t run into anyone on my way out. I was lucky; I didn’t, and I felt an enormous sense of freedom as I pedaled away, even though the messenger bag was digging into my shoulder.

  “I’m here,” I said. “I figured you might need someone to... to look after you. I mean, to help you, if you needed it. Because of your arm.” I was babbling, and I realized that I sounded kind of stupid. I also realized that it might’ve been foolish and/or presumptuous of me to come over here like this and expect to be able to stay.

  “That’d be great,” he said, smiling. “Especially if that offer includes a sponge bath.” He moved his arm a little and winced. “It’s not so bad, but it’s definitely a little sore.”

  “You didn’t see who it was?”

  “No. A black SUV. I couldn’t see the driver though; there was a glare.”

  “It’s pretty ballsy of someone to do that in broad daylight.”

  “Well, I can’t say that’s my first collision with an automobile, but it was definitely the worst one. I did get doored once coming up Van Ness, but I somehow managed to stay on the bike.” He patted the couch cushion. “Will you just come sit with me?”

  “Do you want me to get you anything first?”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  I went over and sat down next to him, and he gingerly arranged himself so he could put his other, uninjured arm around me.

  “You might notice I came with a bag,” I said, nodding to the entranceway where I’d left it.

  “I see that. I assume that’s all of your Florence Nightingale supplies.”

  “My mother and I kind of got into a huge fight.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did she kick you out?”

  “No. I left. I mean, not for good or anything, but I was wondering if it’d be okay if I stayed here for a little while.”

  “You want to stay here?”

  I paused. I’d been hoping that his response would’ve been more along the lines of, “Of course!” Instead, he looked a little confused. “Only if that’s okay,” I said hastily. “And if it’s not, that’s totally fine. I just—”

  “It’s more than totally fine with me,” he said. “I was just hesitating because... well, I’m not sure if it’s going to be totally fine with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Stell. I’ve been in your house before. Parts of your house, anyway.” He started to gesture with his arm and then winced. “Ouch. Forgot about that. I mean, there’s your house, and then there’s this place. Which isn’t that bad as far as homes go, but it’s nothing like what you’re used to.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “Maybe I want to get used to this. Maybe I really like your place.”

  He smiled. “Do you?”

  “Yeah, actually. I do.” I let my gaze travel to the painting that was hanging behind the couch. It was a reproduction oil print of a gristmill in some quaint New England town. “I mean, I might have decorated a little differently, but…” He glanced up and gave me a sheepish look.

  “Oh, that? I got that at a yard sale for a dollar. There’s just something about it that I like.”

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. You’re allowed to decorate however you want. It’s your place.”

  As I said it, though, I realized that I had never really had a space of my own, to do with it as I pleased. Yes, I had my bedroom, but my mother had played a major role in the decorating of the room. Which was fine with me; I was never that interested in that sort of thing anyway, but it seemed a bit odd now, to be twenty-four years old and to have never really had a say in something like that.

  “I’m totally pathetic,” I said.

  Cole gave me a quizzical look. “Say—what?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

  “You’re not pathetic.”

  “I am. I’ve just been living in this ridiculous little bubble my whole life. It’s pathetic. I realize that now.” I sat down next to him on the couch. “Why are you so nice to me? I know how you must see me.”

  “Oh, do you? How is that?”

  “That I’m this pathetic person who’s never been on her own before. Who can’t do anything for herself or anyone else.”

  “You’ve certainly done plenty of wonderful things to me. Come here.” I slid closer to him and he slowly arranged himself so his uninjured arm was around me. Just being this close to him seemed to have a soothing effect on me, and I felt myself contour to his body. If I’d had the ability, I probably would have started purring. “Don’t start getting all down on yourself,” he said. “That’s not going to help anyone. Do you know why I like you? It has nothing to do with how much money your parents have. Your parents could be dirt poor and I’d still like you. I like you because you don’t make any apologies for being just who you are. You’re smart and beautiful and one hella good bike rider. I mean, you’re really my dream girl, if you want to know the truth of it.”

  Just hearing those words made me want to hide my face, but it also made me feel like I was going to burst with happiness. No one had ever said anything even remotely close to that to me before, and I knew that Cole meant it.

  “Want to know why part of the fight with my mother was so bad?” I asked. I didn’t wait for him to respond, because I knew if I was going to say it, I just had to do it, without giving it more thought. If I thought about it, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. “Because I love you.”

  “You do?”

  He sounded so surprised, like no one had ever told him that before, that it almos
t made me want to cry.

  “Of course I do!” I said. “How could I not? You say I’m your dream girl, but you’re really like my dream guy. You’re so down-to-earth and fun and I just feel like I can be myself around you. Not like you’re judging me or expecting me to be a certain way. And being super hot doesn’t hurt, either.”

  I looked up and we gazed into each other’s eyes for a few long moments, which was something I might’ve previously thought was super cheesy, but in this instance, it felt so right. I knew I had made the right choice.

  Chapter 25

  Cole

  I was so happy. I knew that part of it was that this was the honeymoon phase, that things were new for Stella and me, but there was another part of me that thought, This is it. This is really it. Like, I had met my girl. Totally not the person I thought it would be, but maybe that’s just how it was supposed to go.

  For the first twenty-four hours that Stella was over at my place, we didn’t leave. The furthest we got was to go to the door to get the various takeout meals we ordered. Other than that, we didn’t budge. We lounged, we made love—a little tricky with my bad shoulder—and we talked. It was the happiest I could remember being in a long time.

  Of course, I did have to go back into work. But just as I was worrying that Stella would get bored or lonely if she was at the apartment by herself all day, she got up when I did, took a shower, and got dressed.

  “I’m going to go look for a job,” she announced as we sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.

  “You are?”

  “Yes. Don’t look so surprised. If I’m staying here with you, I’m going to contribute. You’re not going to pay my way.”